


Gets Me

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Thank you fics [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Hawkeye!Clint, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, cawclunk, done with this shit Sam Wilson, safe sex, sassy shit Steve rogers, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: During an Avengers debriefing, Clint strikes up a conversation with an attractive stranger. On Grindr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supersockie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersockie/gifts), [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).

> For SUPERSOCKIE who is incredible and who loves the same things I do, namely Modern!Bucky and Avenger!Clint... and other favorite things which we will get to later.
> 
> \--

Clint is sitting in a mission debrief when his phone lights up and delivers an obnoxiously loud _ twack _ notification that has Clint and every other Avenger staring at the chipped and battered indestructible black and purple Stark device on the table in front of him.

For a moment, no one actually comments. Not even Hill, who has the kind of look on her face that is her typical response to news that ICBMs have been launched somewhere.

But then Steve breaks the silence.

“You know you can turn off the Grindr notifications in your settings, right?”

The thing is, no one - not one goddamn person - had ever warned Clint that Steven Grant ‘Son, Just Don’t’ Rogers was a sassy little shit. And six years of working side by side with him as an Avenger still didn’t dull the shock of Clint’s reaction to him saying shit like that.

Clint flushed, because even though he had had his actual pants fall down mid-assassination before, he had _ never _ had Captain Fucking America tell him how to turn off the notifications for an app on his phone that Clint had installed for the express purpose of getting laid. The app that that same Captain fucking America was familiar enough with to _ recognize the notification sound for _.

“Or at least mute your phone during mission debriefings,” Sam muttered, the only person at the table who seemed at all unconcerned about Steve Rogers lecturing Clint about _ Grindr _.

Clint fumbled to do exactly that, thumbing his phone onto silent, and at the same time, pulling it down into his lap.

Natasha tracked that, snorted a laugh, but then turned her attention back to Hill.

“You were saying, Maria?” she said, voice neutral.

Hill opened her mouth to speak, but Tony Stark, of course, couldn’t let it go.

“Wait, wait. Are we- are we _ not _ going to address the fact that dear old Cap knows about _ Grindr _? Is that- is that really a thing we don’t think is important enough to discuss?”

Steve looked ready to punch Tony, which wasn’t all that different from his normal expression - or maybe that _ was _ his normal expression.

“Can we please not discuss it?” Bruce all but begged. He still had his arms wrapped around himself, was still going through the post-transformation not-fun times, and even if he hadn’t had to go green for their mission, he wasn’t likely to want to indulge Tony in this anyway.

“Did _ you _ show it to him?” Tony turned wide eyes on Bruce.

Hill glared at Clint, as if to say _ see what you’ve done now _ and - honestly, that was fair. Ish. 

Because the mission debrief immediately devolved into rampant speculation over how Steve had heard about Grindr and _ why _ Steve had heard about Grindr and-

And Clint tuned it out and surreptitiously looked at his phone to see who had messaged him on Grindr.

** _BuckMe_ ** **.**

Not someone Clint had messaged before, but a quick glance at his profile showed a leanly-muscled half-naked man with nipple piercings, a full sleeve tattoo on his left arm, and a stunning face with obscenely plump, dark lips that made Clint’s mind fill with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts.

Clint opened up the message and had to put in effort to keep his expression neutral after reading it.

** _BuckMe: _ ** _ Anyone ever told you that you look like Iron Fist? _

Clint debated the merits of replying to the message, considering the shit he would likely get from the team if they knew what he was doing… but Steve was mid-lecture about patriarchal, heteronormative relationship paradigms, so he figured it would be safe to send at least a quick response.

** _Hawkguy: _ ** _ Please tell me that isn’t your subtle way of asking me to fist you. _

** _BuckMe_ ** _ : I’m never subtle about fisting. My roommate thinks you look like a serial killer. I said maybe you were a vigilante. _

** _Hawkguy_ ** _ : And you went with Iron Fist? _

** _BuckMe_ ** _ : I mean… hot, built, blond. Weird bruises. _

And maybe because, well, the debriefing was an actual mess now because Hill had given up and walked out and Steve was _ still _ lecturing Tony, while it looked like Sam was taking notes? And Natasha was probably playing Candy Crush, and Wanda and Bruce were doing this silent communication thing that they had started doing recently with their eyebrows... Maybe because of that, and because Clint had been up for the last twelve hours and because he was still maybe coming down from the adrenaline of the mission and-

** _Hawkguy: _ ** _ I could be Hawkeye? _

** _BuckMe:_ ** _ And you went with _ Hawkguy _ for Grindr? Too obvious. He’s like… a fucking world class spy. _

It was simultaneously a compliment and an insult, and it made Clint smirk.

Natasha looked over, and he tried to school his expression into something closer to neutral. Her arched eyebrow indicated that he had failed completely, but instead of calling him on it or interrupting the actual shouting match between Tony and Steve, and _ why _ were they even arguing about - fruit monocultures? How had they gone from Grindr to fruit monocultures? Natasha went back to Candy Crush.

** _Hawkguy_ ** _ : Nothing wrong with hiding in plain sight. _

** _BuckMe:_ ** _ Okay. _ Hawkguy _ . I get off work in an hour. Meet me at mine, convince me you’ve saved the world a few times and I’ll suck your dick. _

Clint paused to consider the offer.

On one hand… the mission had been long and he was tired, and could really do with sleeping for the next thirty hours.

On the other hand… Clint had showered on the Quinjet, and wouldn’t he sleep _ better _ after getting his dick sucked by some hot guy who seemed just as sassy as Steve and had nipple piercings?

** _Hawkguy:_ ** _ Just so I understand what’s on the table, if I don’t convince you I’ve saved the world, what happens? _

** _BuckMe_ ** **:** _ I’ll still suck your dick. You’re hot and I’m horny. But I’m going to give you shit about pretending to be the coolest Avenger on Grindr _.

Those… were stakes Clint was happy to play with.

** _Hawkguy_ ** _ : Address? _

While he waited for _ BuckMe _ to reply, Clint couldn’t help but smirk. 

Across the table, Natasha arched an eyebrow at him again and he winked at her.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her lips curved upwards slightly before she cleared her throat and drew everyone’s attention to her.

“Can we wrap this up, fellas? Clint has a date with an empowered anti-heteronormative guy who may or may not be against Big Agriculture.”

-o-

* * *


	2. And there was more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the always amazing Ro!!!

“You _ have _ to come home this weekend. You cannot leave me alone with them, Bucky!” Becca’s voice had taken on the pleading tone that she always used when she really wanted something. Like a Super Soaker. Or unlimited data. Or anything from Bucky, ever.

With a sigh, Bucky unlocked his apartment and immediately coughed as a wave of smoke hit him in the face.

“What the fuck, Peter - are you alive?” he shouted, phone call with his sister momentarily forgotten.

Peter, Bucky’s roommate and best friend since their freshmen year of college, stepped out of the ‘kitchen’ with a sheepish expression on his face and the charred carcass of a chicken in his hands.

“Fine, just… tried to cook dinner for MJ and… I fucked up.”

It would have been funny, except the expression on Peter’s face was so mournful.

“Ooooh, that’s so cute,” Becca squealed on the phone, reminding Bucky of her existence.

He rolled his eyes and repositioned the phone.

“Becks, I gotta go. And I’m not sure if I can make it home this weekend or not. I’ve got a lot of work and-”

“Bucky, _ please _ , _ please _ don’t leave me alone. They’re gonna do that thing where they hate all of my life choices and tell me my hair makes me look like a lesbian and-”

“You are a lesbian,” Bucky reminded her.

“-and they’re gonna tell me how much prettier I’d be if I just _ smile _ more and wear a dress and-”

“You realize that if I show up, Gram and Grandad are just going to spend the whole weekend telling _ me _ to get a haircut, and tell me to start dating a nice Jewish girl and drag me to Temple.”

The phone was silent, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Becca, I am not coming home just so I can suffer instead of you. I already went through twenty-six years of that shit.”

“And I’ve been through seventeen years of it! It’s not fair! I just-”

Knowing he would probably regret it, Bucky hung up. 

Sure enough, his phone immediately started to vibrate with texts from his little sister - long strings of angry-looking emojis and exclamation marks.

“Uh.” Peter was still standing there, still holding the sad remains of his attempt to cook, still looking miserable and adorable.

“C’mere,” Bucky said, and dropped his bag by the door. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and kicked the door closed before meeting Peter halfway and inspecting the chicken.

It really wasn’t at all salvageable. 

“What happened to it?” Bucky had to ask.

“I put it in the oven? I guess… I happened to it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes again.

“Pete, have you ever-”

“I screwed it up, didn’t I? And now she’s gonna think I’m a loser, and she’s never gonna- Oh, man. Bucky, I screwed up.”

He looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the way he had looked countless times in late-night lab sessions over the years, and, just as it always had, it stirred Bucky’s protective instincts.

Bucky pulled off his turtleneck sweater and used that to protect his hands, and took the cooking tray from Peter. He walked back into the kitchen with it and, not really sure what to do with it yet, dumped the entire thing in the sink. He would deal with it later.

“Pete, you didn’t screw up, and you’re not a loser. Plus, MJ knows you and- What do you mean ‘she’s never gonna’? Never gonna what?”

Peter was still wearing oven mitts on his hands, and Bucky realized that he was also dressed up - nice jeans, blue button-up shirt, red tie that Bucky had purchased for him the morning after he and Peter had both been offered Stark post-doc fellowship positions.

“Never gonna what?” Bucky asked again as he took the oven mitts off of Peter’s hands.

Peter blinked up at him, eyes sad and wide and adorable.

“Never gonna go out with me?”

Bucky just barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes yet again.

_ Jesus _. 

Peter and MJ had been so blatantly in love for _ years _ . The first time Bucky had met MJ, a terrifyingly cool girl with Hermione Granger hair and Captain America _ fight me _ attitude, Peter had introduced MJ as his ‘friend’ from high school, and Bucky had been sure they had dated - had _ something _ \- because the way they looked at each other was as close to ‘heart eyes’ as it was physically possible to be.

That Peter was finally going to ask her out, after _ ten years _ of pining, was a huge step.

“Okay, it’s going to be okay. She knows the only thing you can cook is Kraft Mac and Cheese, Pete. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, but- but I wanted to show her I could… feed her.”

Bucky used his apparently incredible self control to keep a straight face.

He nodded sympathetically.

“Pete, she knows you can feed her. You’ve ordered pizza for her before, remember? And when she was sick last year, you brought her soup from Aunt May. It’s all good.”

Peter’s eyes took on a manic gleam.

“I should order pizza. She loves pizza. We could- we could eat pizza. On the roof. That’s romantic and-”

Outside, a flash of lightning was followed by a bone-rattling _ boom _ of thunder. It started to rain.

Peter’s shoulders slumped.

“It’s cold anyway,” Bucky tried to rationalize. “Here, let’s just… clean up the living room, okay? You two can eat pizza in here, and I’ll go… out, or hide in my room or-”

“Eat pizza with us!” Peter begged. “Hang out with us! We can watch that dolphin hunting documentary and-”

“Pete, I am not gonna third wheel your date, and you’re seriously going to watch that? For your date?”

“MJ loves depressing things,” Peter very reasonably pointed out.

Bucky was forced to shrug.

“Fair. Okay. Let’s just… clean this place up. Order a pizza while I get started, okay?”

Peter nodded, looking relieved and determined and terrified in equal measure.

Bucky set about putting the couch to rights first. He and Peter might have had a tickling match yesterday that had resulted in both of them flinging cushions all over the living room/dining room/kitchen area of their two bedroom apartment.

He was in the process of stacking library books - definitely overdue, and that was on _ him _ \- back onto the coffee table when someone knocked at the door.

Peter’s eyes widened.

“She’s early. I should change. I should change, right? This looks ridiculous. Yeah. I’m gonna- I’m gonna change.” And he ran away.

Bucky allowed himself a single laugh, since Peter wasn’t there to hear it, and went to open the door.

MJ was not standing on the other side.

“You aren’t MJ,” Bucky said, stupidly, because he was stupid and he was standing there, stupidly, staring at-

“Uh, I didn’t realize MJ was an option,” Hawkeye said.

Hawkeye - in the full uniform of kevlar and spandex, purple chevron on his broad chest the only color on the otherwise all-black uniform that fit him like a sexy, dangerous glove, and showed off his bare biceps and his slim waist and impossibly long legs and- _ Hawkeye _ was standing there smirking at Bucky.

“You aren’t Iron Fist,” Bucky said, because… because Bucky was a fucking _ idiot, _ and holy fuck. he had been messaging _ an Avenger on Grindr _.

“Definitely not Iron Fist,” Hawkeye confirmed, still smirking. His blue eyes had a bit of green in them, and there were actual, honest-to-fuck freckles across the bridge of his nose, and how the fuck was that _ fair _ ? He saved the world and had _ freckles _? He- he was also staring down at Bucky. Specifically, at Bucky’s bare torso because, yep, he sure as hell had taken off his sweater to deal with the whole sacrificial chicken thing, and now he was standing there in jeans and… and Hawkeye was looking at him like he wanted to eat him.

Bucky was okay with that. Bucky was _ so very _ okay with that.

“So, how do I go about convincing you I’m actually Hawkeye?” Hawkeye asked.

“I…” Bucky was speechless. Bucky Barnes, who’d never struggled to flirt, and who in fact routinely had to try _ not _ to flirt because he did it too much, had no fucking clue what to say.

“Hey, MJ, I’m- You’re not MJ.”

Hawkeye’s gaze shifted from Bucky to Peter, who had changed into an almost identical blue button-up shirt and a black tie.

“Nope,” Hawkeye agreed. “I’m not MJ.”

“You’re- Shit. Are you that Iron Fist look-alike Bucky’s been lusting after on Grindr? Bucky, did you finally message him?”

Bucky groaned and covered his face with one hand while Hawkeye laughed, warm and rich and so _ hot _.

“I’m not Iron Fist,” Hawkeye said. “Bucky?”

Bucky uncovered his face and nodded.

“That’s me.”

Hawkeye’s grin was broad enough to reveal a _ dimple, _ and was he even fucking real?

“Whoa - are you, like, a Hawkeye cosplayer? That costume looks amazing!” Peter said.

Hawkeye’s lips twitched.

“Not really,” he said, but he held out a hand towards Peter. “I’m Clint.”

“Peter, Peter Parker.” Peter stepped forward and shook Hawkeye - _ Clint _ ’s - hand. Clint, as in Clint Barton, as in of course the Avenger that Bucky had fantasized about ever since the Battle of New York four years ago, when Hawkeye - when this very fucking _ guy _ \- had picked Bucky up from his hiding spot under a bus seat and carried him to safety. 

How the fuck did Peter not know Hawkeye’s first name?

“Oh, nice touch, you even have the purple BTEs like Hawkeye!” Peter exclaimed.

Clint slanted a look over at Bucky, eyes still amused, as if the two of them were in on some private joke, and Bucky’s breath caught in his lungs. 

Peter used his grip on Hawkeye to drag the man into the apartment and then close the door behind him, and Bucky was left a little speechless. Still. Because Hawkeye, all six-feet three-inches and two-hundred and thirty pounds of him, was _ in Bucky’s apartment _.

“Oh- _ Oh _\- Bucky, are- Did he dress up because of your getting rescued by Hawkeye fantasy? Are you two gonna- Do you need me to leave so you can do the whole getting tied up and-”

Someone knocked at the door, and Bucky tripped over himself to answer it, face on fire and mouth drier than a desert, and maybe if he just _ left _ this would end and-

MJ and Ned were standing in the hallway.

MJ nodded at him.

“‘Sup?” she asked, and walked into the apartment like she owned it. Ned, on the other hand, gave Bucky a look of wide-eyed apology and reluctantly followed her inside.

“MJ!” Peter damn near squeaked, and both Bucky and Ned winced. “Ned!” he said in the exact same tone. “What-”

“She made me,” Ned pointed at MJ. “We were in the library, and she said you invited her over and I should come.”

Clearly, Ned had been made aware of Peter’s plan to ask MJ out. But also, just as clearly, hadn’t been able to think of a reason not to come over with MJ.

For a moment, Peter looked bewildered, but then he sucked in a breath and recovered.

“That’s cool! That’s awesome! I ordered a pizza. And, uh, Bucky’s Grindr hookup is here!”

Bucky sighed, Clint actually _ blushed _, and MJ turned an appraising gaze his way.

“Nice cosplay,” she said.

But Ned, who was on Bucky’s page as far as stalking the hottest, coolest Avenger went, looked from Clint to Bucky with wide eyes.

He silently gestured at Clint. Bucky nodded, and Ned’s jaw dropped.

“You two gonna do some kind of damsel in distress roleplay?” MJ asked Bucky.

Bucky glared at her, but before he could even open his mouth to form a denial or a plea to, like, a higher being or an alien invasion or _ something _ to take him far, far away, Peter spoke up.

“No - not tonight! They’re just gonna hang with us. Eat pizza. Watch movies. You know. Hang out. Like friends do.”

The look Clint sent Bucky’s way was one of absolute confusion and not a little terror. It exactly mirrored what Bucky was feeling.

“Cool,” MJ shrugged, accepting this as yet another weird thing only Peter Parker would envision, and she wasn’t wrong because _ only Peter Parker would invite the girl he wanted to ask out over and then turn it into a group hang-out session when Bucky should be sucking Hawkeye’s dick _. 

“I figured we could watch The Cove?” Peter offered, and MJ sat down on one end of the couch. Peter, the absolute idiot, sat down on the opposite end.

MJ shrugged.

“Sure, if you haven’t seen it yet.”

Peter gave a derisive snort, and looked over at Bucky and Ned for help.

“No, I’ve seen it. Of course I’ve seen it.” His eyes very clearly said _ help me, please _. Bucky crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. He sure as hell wasn’t helping.

“What about that show on Netflix about stolen art?” Ned offered, and sat down on the lumpy armchair beside the couch.

“Yes!” Peter grasped onto the idea like a drowning man. “Perfect! MJ?”

“Sure.” She glanced over at Clint and Bucky. “You two joining us?”

Bucky gave Clint a miserable look. Clint’s lips twitched.

“I could just go,” he said, and gestured towards the door. “You seem pretty busy with your friends.”

“Or you could stay?” Bucky offered, aware of how pathetically hopeful he sounded. “Pizza?”

Clint looked torn, and Bucky felt a little guilty about begging an actual Avenger to hang out and eat pizza and watch Netflix with his friends instead of… saving the world or getting his dick sucked.

And then it hit Bucky, all at once, that Clint could just walk out and go get laid by _ anyone _ because he was an _ Avenger _ and he was hot as fuck, and Bucky was just… a lame post-doc Stark fellow with three friends crammed into a shitty apartment about to share a pizza and watch Netflix together.

“I like pizza,” Clint said, instead of ‘fuck this, I’m out’, and he grinned at Bucky.

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Positive. It’s my favorite food.”

And Bucky blushed, because sure, they were talking about pizza and this was nothing, this was just… the weirdest fucking thursday night of his life, ever, but… but Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, was giving Peter a pointed look that had Peter shifting closer to MJ on the couch so that Clint could sit on the other end and leave just enough room for Bucky to sandwhich into place against him and… okay.

Best thursday night ever.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re an idiot,” Natasha said, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Don’t _ even _ look at me, man,” Sam’s words were out before Clint could even fully turn his head towards him.

So Clint turned his best, most pathetic expression on Steve. Steve, who sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair and gave Clint a look that was somewhere between _ America is disappointed in you _ and _ We’re really going to do this? _

“Please,” Clint was actually proud of how sad he made himself sound. “Cap, I need this.”

“Oh - you _ need _ this?” Sam demanded, and copied Natasha’s pose, arms crossed and eyes narrowed and judgement etched in every line of his face. Clint decided then and there that Nat and Sam were spending way too much time together. “You _ need _ your Grindr hookup to suck your dick or you’ll, what - die? Because from where I’m standing - and let me remind you that before I became a _ superhero, _ my first job was being a PJ, so I’m not just pulling this shit out of my ass - from where _ I’m _standing, what you need is medical attention and some damn rest.”

“Exactly,” Natasha ‘I walk around while I’m bleeding out and pretend I’m just fine’ Romanoff agreed.

Clint glared at the both of them, but they weren’t budging. And Steve was frowning, edging more into Disappointed Dad territory with every second.

“It’s not- it’s not like that,” Clint fumbled. “It’s just- I told him we’d go out tonight and-”

“And what, your boy’s so thirsty he can’t wait long enough for you to be able to put weight on your ankle?” Sam interrupted.

“I think Clint’s the thirsty one,” Natasha muttered.

Clearly, Clint wasn’t getting out of this.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll go get patched up, and _ then _ I’ll go see Bucky and-” 

Natasha pulled Clint’s phone out of his pocket.

“What- what the hell are you doing?”

“Medical care. Rest. You can have this back when you’re thinking with something bigger than _ that _,” she waved towards his crotch, and Sam smirked. He full-on laughed when Clint flushed.

“Steve,” Natasha turned her steely gaze towards him, “can you make sure Clint goes to medical?”

Which was just unfair - she was forcing Steve into going along with her plan now, and not giving Clint any opportunity to convert him.

Steve’s mouth tightened, because he knew he was being manipulated, but he nodded acquiescence.

“Good. Clint, I’ll check on you later. Sam, let’s go have a chat with our new FBI friends.”

And just like that, Sam and Natasha - and Clint’s phone - were leaving the Quinjet while Clint sighed and grimaced and tried to force himself to stand on his own.

“Easy there,” Steve was instantly at his side, slinging an arm around Clint’s waist and taking the brunt of his weight so that Clint could ease off of his right ankle. Of course, considering the shooting pain in Clint’s left wrist and the no-doubt sprained joint, it wasn’t all that comfortable.

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” Clint muttered as Steve walked him down the Quinjet ramp.

“I could just carry you,” Steve offered, like the asshole he was.

“I’m good, but thanks so much, Cap.”

Steve smirked at him, and Clint rolled his eyes.

“I could carry you down to his lab,” Steve offered.

Because _ that _ would be awesome. Just so great. Captain America, actual perfection, carrying Clint Barton, the idiot Avenger, into the lab of _ Dr _ . Bucky Barnes, the ridiculously brilliant, stupidly hot man who Clint already had pretty much no chance with would be _ great _ for him.

“Only if you want him to suck your dick instead of mine,” Clint muttered.

Steve’s smirk faded away.

“You said he liked you.”

Clint shrugged, or tried to, but it was hard with Steve at his side, so instead he settled for leaning against his teammate and team-leader and sighing while the elevator Steve had maneuvered them into carried them down to medical.

“I mean, he liked me enough not to bail on giving our whole… hooking up a second chance after that first time.”

“So you two are dating? That’s great - it’s been… what, five weeks? Clint, he’s going to understand that you can’t go out tonight because you got hurt _ saving the world _.”

Clint rolled his eyes.

“Please. I didn’t save the world. I shot a few arrows and blew up a few things so you guys could save the world. But it’s not - it’s not like that anyway. Me and Bucky.”

“Oh? What’s it like then?” Steve asked, still wearing his sympathetic frown and making Clint feel even more pathetic.

He was, fortunately, saved by their arrival at the medical unit and Dr. Cho and her crew whisking Clint away for treatment.

It wasn’t until Clint was strapped down and having lasers zap his right leg back into functionality and some kind of algae compress _ thing _ applied to his wrist that Steve showed back up.

“So,” Steve asked as he pulled up a rolling chair and sat beside Clint, “what’s it like?”

Clint glared at him, debated the merits of playing stupid for all of five seconds before he remembered that this was _ Steve Rogers _ and the man absolutely never gave up. So Clint sighed and rolled his head so he could at least look at the ceiling and away from that damn sympathetic expression.

“So… the night we met, we didn’t actually hook up. His roomate was there and… their friends showed up? And we all got pizza and watched Netflix for like five hours.”

Steve snorted.

“Please tell me you realize that ‘Netflix and Chill’ isn’t about -”

“I _ know _ what ‘Netlfix and Chill’ means, Cap,” Clint growled. He could _ feel _ Steve smirking.

“Okay,” Steve murmured. “Okay. So. That was five weeks ago, though?”

Clint sighed again.

“So, we were gonna try again a few nights later, but then Bucky had this breakthrough with his semiconductor research and, you know, he had to stay late at the lab and then one thing led to another and he ended up going to Switzerland for two weeks.” Which was great, and amazing, and cool, and Bucky was fucking brilliant and Clint still couldn’t understand _ why _ he was wasting his time flirting with Clint via text almost every day but he also wasn’t dumb enough to challenge it. If Bucky wanted to waste his time on Clint, Clint was happy to let him until Bucky realized just how very, very far below what he deserved Clint was.

“I remember. Tony kept trying to show me the schematics of what he was working on - he’s really proud of Bucky.”

“He should be. Bucky’s fucking amazing.”

“So, what about when he got back from Switzerland?” Steve prompted.

“Well, we were gonna meet up at my place in Bed-Stuy last weekend but -”

“Argentina,” Steve sighed.

“Yep. Argentina. _ So _ , tonight was attempt number… four? Five? I don’t even know. I mean, Steve. The guy is a fucking physcist. He’s an engineer. He’s - he’s like _ brilliant _ . He’s funny - he’s _ kind _ and he’s… so fucking hot, Steve. Any minute now he’s gonna write me off as too much trouble and just -”

“And just _ what _? Because anyone who wants to write you off as too much trouble is clearly a moron and definitely someone who doesn’t deserve you at all, especially not the right to suck your dick.”

“I - um. Thanks?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Look. Let’s get you up to your suite and settled in your bed and I’ll go see if Bucky can come up and visit you, okay?”

“_ Visit _ me?” Clint repeated.

Steve glared.

“I’m not going to chaperone you, Clint. But if Natasha and Sam find out you strained yourself in _ any way _ and come after me -”

“They won’t. I won’t. I swear.”

Steve gave Clint a hard look.

“And if this guy doesn’t realize how lucky he is to have a shot with you, he and I are going to have a chat.”

“Steve! You can’t - you can’t shovel talk my _ Grindr hookup _!”

“I’m Captain America, Clint. I do what I want.”

-o-

Clint had half an hour of wallowing/freaking out/visualizing all of the ways this was not going to be good. It was enough time for him to roll over onto his still healing wrist twice, in an attempt to straighten up the sheets and pillows on the bed that Steve had _ carried him to _ and gently dropped him down onto before going off to ‘fetch your guy’ with a jaunty salute and an ‘I’m such a little shit’ smirk on his face.

So, dressed in washed-soft sweatpants and the first clean t-shirt he could find - a Hulk shirt he had purchased from Target last year when Tony had bet that _ his _ merch was the most popular and Clint had wanted to support Bruce and, well, he already had three Cap shirts and too much Black Widow merch to count - Clint was laying in bed with a sore fucking wrist and a grimace on his face when Bucky and Steve walked into the room.

Bucky’s cheeks were red, and he looked… a little shell-shocked. Of course, looking over at Steve, Clint couldn’t help but notice that _ he _ looked just as shell-shocked… and was also blushing.

“What the fuck happened?” Clint demanded.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, arched eyebrows at each other, and then smirked. It was uncanny. They were _ instantly _ communicating silently in the same kind of way that Clint and Natasha did, or that Natasha and Sam did, or Sam and Steve and -

“We’ve come to an understanding,” Bucky said and approached the bed.

That sounded ominous as hell.

“What _ kind _ of understanding?” Clint had to ask, already picturing Bucky telling him to take care and waltzing out on Steve’s arm, because, well, _ Steve _.

“The kind where we agree that you have no idea how amazing you are and I’m gonna have to work on that.”

Clint looked from Bucky to Steve.

Steve shrugged, his ridiculously unconvincing ‘who me’ thing that literally no one had ever bought. Probably not even back before he’d had the serum.

“Hey, Clint,” Bucky drew his attention again.

“Hey, Bucky.”

“I like you a lot. As more than, you know, a guy whose dick I want to suck. As more than just a guy I flirted with on Grindr because I was having a rough week and you were hot.”

Clint really didn’t know where this was going, and it didn’t help all that much when Steve smirked again, turned and walked out of the room.

“I, uh, thanks?”

Bucky smirked and sat down on the side of the bed, close enough that his thigh was pressed against Clint’s and he could feel his warmth through their layers of clothing.

“That said,” Bucky continued to smirk as he looked over Clint, “ you _ are _ the hot guy whose dick I want to suck. And Captain America just told me how fucking badass you were today and how you saved his life and, you know, on behalf of America, and the world, I feel like I should thank you.”

“I didn’t really -”

“Clint, can I please, _ finally _, suck your dick?”

“Yes?” It felt like a trick question. Was there an option _ other _ than yes?

Bucky’s lips twitched.

“Sure you’re up for it?”

“I can be,” Clint assured him. “I can be up for anything.”

Bucky raised both eyebrows.

“Anything, huh?” Bucky ran his right hand over Clint’s side, touch gentle but firm, and his fingers trailed along the waistband of Clint’s sweats while he looked up at Clint from under his long, dark eyelashes. 

“I mean, anything that won’t get me killed by Sam or Natasha.”

“He - Captain America - told me the doctors wanted you to rest and take it easy for the next twenty-four hours at least.”

“Yeah, but…” Clint trailed off at Bucky’s expression.

“So,” Bucky continued, “why don’t you lay back at let me do all the work in this ‘up for anything’ thing, huh?”

Clint’s mouth felt dry, and he had to swallow a few times.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Whatever you want.”

Bucky gave him a look, something intense and indecipherable, but before Clint could say something, Bucky leaned forward pressed his lips to Clint’s.

“It’s good to see you. I worried about you. We had the news on in the lab and -”

“I’m okay,” Clint assured him. “Just a few scratches and -”

“I _ saw _ you fall off that building, Clint. It was on the internet. Everyone saw it.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t… a tall building.”

Bucky kissed him again, and Clint could _ feel _ his irritation, his anger, in the rough, possessive press of Bucky’s lips against his own. And then Bucky was sucking Clint’s lower lip between his own, was licking into Clint’s mouth and stealing away Clint’s breath.

And Clint might still be a bit bewildered, but he wasn’t dumb. He wrapped his arms, both of them - injury be damned - around Bucky and held him close even as Bucky climbed fully onto the bed and pressed his weight down on Clint’s body.

By the time Bucky pulled away from the kiss, Clint felt a little lightheaded, felt flushed and almost too large for his skin.

“I like you,” Bucky growled. “And I can’t like you if you’re dead, Clint. Okay?”

Clint swallowed hard, because Bucky was looking at Clint with the same kind of intense, fierce possessiveness that Natasha sometimes turned on him.

“Yeah, okay,” Clint managed to say.

“Good.” Bucky kissed him again, quick and hard. “Now, where do you keep your condoms and lube?”

Clint let go of Bucky and flailed towards the nightstand on his right.

“Lube?”

Bucky smirked down at him.

“If you’re up for it, I’m gonna suck your dick and then do something I’ve wanted to do for years.”

“Um…”

Bucky settled himself on his knees, thighs bracketing Clint’s body, and reached over him to pull open the top drawer of the nightstand.

“You know,” Bucky said, tone conversational as he pulled out the lube and a few condoms, “I’ve always had that you saving me fantasy thing, right?”

They had talked about this, or, rather, texted about it after that first night. After seemingly every one of Bucky’s friends tortured him with hints about it. 

Bucky had explained it, had explained that Clint had _ actually _ saved him during the invasion of New York years ago and ever since, Bucky’s fantasized about Clint saving him again and Bucky getting the chance to properly thank him. With his mouth and his ass and his dick.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. He watched as Bucky started to unbutton his shirt, a black dress shirt that clung to his torso in all the best ways.

“There’s something about this,” Bucky smirked down at him and pulled his shirt off to reveal his gorgeous chest, barbells shining through his nipples and tattoos decorating his golden skin, “having you at my mercy, that’s really doing it for me.”

It was, Clint had to admit, kind of doing it for _ him _, too.

He ran his hands up Bucky’s sides, fingers grazing smooth skin and drawing a soft sigh from Bucky’s lips. Clint ran the pads of his thumbs over Bucky’s nipples, ignoring the twinge of pain in his left wrist but unable to keep from wincing.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

“Clint.”

“Bucky.”

“Where exactly are you injured?”

Clint sighed.

“I’m fine. It’s just -”

“Clint.”

“My right leg. My ankle got a little crushed but it’s _ fine _ now and -”

“_ And _?” Bucky prompted.

“Any my left wrist is sorta sprained but -”

Bucky reached for Clint’s arms, both of them, his hands wrapping around Clint’s forearms and pulling his fingers away from Bucky’s chest.

“_ But _, you have to take it easy and rest,” Bucky said. He positioned Clint’s arms above his head, both wrists supported by pillows. “How does that feel?”

Clint rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m glad. You keep being fine and just lay there, okay. Keep your hands right there.”

Clint wanted to protest, wanted to repeat that he was _ fine _, but then Bucky was smirking down at him.

“How about you tell me where to touch myself?” He suggested.

And that… Clint could get on board with that.

“Here?” Bucky suggested and moved his hands to his own nipples, where Clint’s fingers had been just a moment before.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. He licked his lips, watched Bucky’s fingers roll his own nipples and tug at his piercings until Bucky’s cheeks were pink and his eyes were dark.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Clint groaned.

“You too,” Bucky grinned down at him. “Look at you. You have no idea how fucking unfair it is that you have freckles on top of all the rest of this. What else do you want me to do?”

“Get your fingers wet,” Clint said, not quite ordering Bucky, because, well…

Bucky moved his right hand towards Clint, held out two fingers and pressed them to Clint’s lips until Clint opened his mouth and sucked on Bucky’s fingers.

“Nipples again,” Clint said.

Bucky shivered and rolled his hips as he complied, tracing his wet fingers over his sensitive skin and then squeezing it until he moaned.

“Good,” Clint said and Bucky’s cheeks darkened even more. “Mind taking off your pants?” He suggested.

Bucky grinned and moved off the bed to stand beside it. He unfastened the front of his dark gray skinny jeans to reveal purple _ Hawkeye _ briefs.

Clint had to laugh and Bucky shrugged one shoulder.

“I like the color,” he said as he pushed down his jeans so that he was standing in just the briefs.

“Looks good on you,” Clint said. He was pretty sure that _ everything _ looked good on Bucky, but still, it was nice to see him in the tight purple briefs, black chevron only emphasizing Bucky’s erection as it strained against the fabric.

“I like the Avenger, too,” Bucky added as he pulled them off and toed off his socks.

They had traded photos, over the last five weeks, a few _ wish you were here _ post-orgasm dick pics and even a few pre-orgasm dick pics and a hell of a lot of sexting. So this wasn’t the first time Clint was looking at Bucky’s dick. But it was the first time he was close enough to _ touch _.

“Uh-uh,” Bucky said and pointed at Clint’s hands. “Keep them there.”

“I thought you were thanking me for America,” Clint complained.

“Oh, I’m gonna. Don’t you worry. I’m going to express so much thanks. My absolute deepest gratitude.” Bucky was back to smirking and he tugged on Clint’s sweats. “But these have got to go first.”

“Yeah, sure, fine by me.” Clint lifted his hips helpfully, and Bucky pulled the sweats down and off, leaving Clint’s lower body bare to his gaze.

“Seriously, it’s just not fair that you’re this hot,” Bucky sighed as he pushed Clint’s t-shirt up to bunch around his shoulders. “Your _ abs _ are fucking insane.”

Bucky crawled back onto the bed and leaned over Clint, as though he was going to kiss him again, but instead he redirected his mouth to Clint’s chest. Tongue out, he mapped his way across Clint’s pectorals and then lower, licking and kissing and sucking on his abdominal muscles until Clint was torn between shying away from the almost ticklish pressure and pushing closer.

“So hot,” Bucky mumbled against Clint’s hip and then raked his teeth over the skin.

Clint bit back a moan and Bucky’s lips curved against his skin.

“And this cock,” Bucky growled and turned his head, resting his cheek against Clint’s thigh and kissing the flushed, straining shaft of Clint’s dick. “Perfect. Remember when you sent me that video of you jerking off when I was in Switzerland?”

Hard for Clint to forget that. Bucky had texted him after presenting his research to some committee or other, some several hour event that had left Bucky exhausted and worn out and Bucky had _ asked _ Clint to send him a dick pic, had insisted that he deserved to see something good after looking at spreadsheets all day. So Clint had sent him a photo and one thing had led to another and Clint had sent the video and Bucky had responded with one of his own the next day.

“Yeah, I remember,” Clint assured him.

“Best looking cock I’ve ever seen,” Bucky’s voice was sending extremely pleasant vibrations up Clint’s dick.

“Thanks.”

Reaching for the condoms, Bucky tore one free and then opened it.

Clint held himself still, which took a monumental effort, as Bucky rolled the condom down his dick and gave the shaft a firm squeeze.

Bucky moved to a better position and licked Clint’s dick from base to head, laving at the slit until Clint thrust upwards in an involuntary need for _ more _.

“You are so, so welcome,” Bucky said and then he opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around Clint’s dick.

It felt incredible, not just the tight, hot, wet seal of Bucky’s mouth on him, but the press of his weight on Clint’s thighs, his hands on Clint’s hips and the _ look _ on his face as he closed his eyes and worked to take down more and more of Clint’s dick.

It was a struggle to hold still and Clint ended up clutching the pillow under his head and biting his lips because he was positive Bucky was drawing this out, this initial plunge and it was the best form of torture Clint had ever endured. He simultaneously wanted it to never stop and _ needed _it to.

But then Bucky’s nose was pressed to Clint’s groin and his lips around the base of Clint’s dick and Clint was pretty sure he was going to die right then and there.

“Fuck. Jesus. Bucky, you’re - fuck, you’re amazing.”

Bucky’s fingers dug into his hips, curling a little and Bucky groaned around Clint’s dick.

“Oh, yeah, that’s - yeah,” Clint groaned as Bucky’s mouth worked around him. Bucky’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked, pulling back and then plunging down again, swallowing Clint’s dick like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“So, so pretty,” Clint said, had to say, because this - the sight of Bucky so thoroughly and deeply and gloriously sucking his dick was something he never, ever wanted to forget and he _ needed _ Bucky to know how much he appreciated it.

“Feel so good,” Clint said and from there he just kind of… kept up a stream of conscious litany of praise. He told Bucky how beautiful his mouth was, how good his tongue felt, how smart he was, how gorgeous he looked struggling to breathe around Clint’s dick, how amazing he was and -

“Fuck, babe, I’m close. I -”

Bucky pulled off with an obscenely loud, wet _ pop _ and sucked in a deep breath.

For a moment, Clint and Bucky stared at each other, Clint taking in Bucky’s blissed out expression and his wet, swollen lips and dark eyes and Bucky just staring back at him like he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Bucky reached for Clint’s dick, stroking him in a slow, steady rhythm that backed Clint away from his orgasm.

“How would you feel about me riding you?” Bucky asked, voice rough and fucked out and he could have asked Clint for literally _ anything _ sounding like that and Clint would have agreed.

“Yeah, sure, that’s… I feel good about that.”

Bucky grinned at him.

“Good.” He reached for the lube and squeezed a generous amount out onto the fingers of his right hand. “Because I’ve been dreaming about doing this for weeks now. Ever since I saw how big your cock was. You’re gonna feel amazing, Clint.”

It was a wholly unique experience, Clint laying there while Bucky looked down at him like he was a starving man and Clint was some kind of buffet, talking to Clint like that.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Clint surmised.

Bucky laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to Clint’s mouth.

“Nope. You’re no good to me dead, remember?” Bucky sucked in a breath, shifted on Clint’s lap, and Clint could feel the brush of Bucky’s fingers as he started to open himself.

“Yeah, I remember. Bucky, you - you’re so incredible.”

“Mm. You too, Clint. Fuck, you too. ‘M the luckiest guy in the world.”

Clint snorted in disbelief.

“I am,” Bucky insisted and kissed Clint again, swept his tongue into Clint’s mouth and left him breathless and speechless.

Bucky kept kissing him even as he reached for the lube again, as he slicked up Clint’s cock and positioned him, as he slowly eased Clint into his tight body, as he gripped Clint’s shoulders and trembled and moaned into Clint’s mouth.

“Know why?” Bucky pulled away from the kiss, eyes wild and dark and face red and Clint - Clint had no idea what he was talking about for maybe a solid minute.

“Why?” His brain finally managed to process something that wasn’t how fucking _ right _ Bucky felt around him.

“Because I’m here with you,” Bucky rolled his hips and Clint moaned, loud and low and _ fuck _. “I’m here with you and you -” Bucky punctuated his words with movement, working himself up and then down Clint’s length in a steady pace that was just quick enough, just forceful enough, to have them both breathless and panting, “you somehow think I’m special.”

“You are,” Clint insisted, thrusting upwards and catching Bucky off-guard just enough that his fingers dug into Clint’s shoulders. “You’re brilliant and -”

“You’re _ Hawkeye _ . You save the world and you’re just - you’re so fucking _ good _, Clint,” Bucky’s voice was just as forceful, just as determined as his body, and it left Clint helpless and desperate.

“Bucky -”

“Don’t argue with me, Clint, not while I’ve got your cock in me and I’m so close to coming. You’re the best goddamn thing to happen to me in - a hell of a long time. Maybe forever. And if I want to think that, if I want to _ say _ it, I’m damn well going to say it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” It felt stupid, ridiculous even, to argue about it.

“Good. Good. Fuck, you feel good.” Bucky raked his nails over Clint’s chest, just the right side of painful and Clint arched up into it. Bucky shifted a little, moved his right hand down to his own dick and started to stroke himself.

“I’m close,” Bucky groaned. “ I’m close and fuck, Clint, tell me you’re -”

“Me too, babe, me too,” Clint assured him, feeling his own pleasure build and build, heat gathering and then Bucky’s mouth fell open and his body clenched around Clint’s and he came, stroking himself through it and continuing to rock down against Clint until Clint’s orgasm had him gasping and reaching for Bucky.

He pulled him close, held him tight, and kissed him as they both shuddered and the world shifted around them.

“You moved,” Bucky said, minutes or hours later. 

Clint had to laugh. 

“Yeah. I - sorry. Couldn’t stay still. Not with - not with that. Not with you.”

Bucky smirked and shifted, curling around Clint and repositioning his arms back above his head.

“Well, if you want to touch me, you know what you have to do next time.”

“You want there to be a next time?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Clint. I want there to be a next time. And there’s going to _ keep _ being a next time until you tell me to get lost, okay? I like you, and you’re amazing, and that was some damn good sex. You’re stuck with me.”

-o-

**Author's Note:**

> Now beta read by Ro!!!


End file.
